Nicki
I hear the distant sound of thunder as I lower myself to the roof.
It's become my favorite spot in the house. Over the last two weeks, I've come out here every night, journal in hand.
It's where I write down the day's thoughts, look up into the stars and think about my life.
A lot of nights, I can hear Bey playing her guitar or listening to music in her room. Sometimes I hear her singing.
Sometimes the deep, gravelly sound of her voice makes me ache all over.
Ever since the morning Megan barged in on us—after Bey ignored my obvious invitation to pick up where we left off—I've tried to avoid her.
I've also been thinking about Megan's reaction when she saw us on the bed. Her rage. The hatred on her face.
I'd scrambled back into my clothes as she stood there glaring at us. Then I beat a quick retreat to my room. I figured Bey should deal with her. I seem to set her off just by existing.
But I was still on fire from her touch. So when I heard her in the hallway a little later, I decided to let her know I was ready to continue what we'd started.
I was embarrassed when she pretended not to notice.
And that's when it finally dawned on me that Megan wasn't acting like just an irritated roomie. She was acting like a jealous lover.
Maybe Bey and Megan are a couple, and I've been too clueless to catch on. Maybe Bey has feelings for her.
Or maybe she's just a total douche. Does she bag every girl who moves into the house? Does she have a different girl every weekend?
That's what's been running through my mind the last couple of weeks.
It shouldn't matter to me. Bey and I are not dating. We barely know each other.
I'm pressing the pen into the doodle I've been drawing in the margins of my journal so hard that I tear the page in half.
Sighing, I close the journal with the pen tucked inside and look out into the darkness, feeling the electric static of the coming storm. The cicadas that are usually buzzing in concert have gone silent.
It's been another hot day. At 9 PM, it is still warm.
My phone vibrates, and I grab it as it starts to slide toward the roof's edge.
It's TT, texting a picture of herself with some hot guy. They're entangled on a dorm room bed, each holding up a shot glass, each grinning from ear-to-ear.
"So TT is having a grand old time," I say out loud, wishing yet again I could be more like her.
She just strings guys along, getting exactly what she wants out of them and then moving on to the next one. All while keeping her heart locked up safe and sound.
TT doesn't seem to catch feelings. Not like I do, anyway.
But that's why I need to be careful around Beyonce Knowles. Even if she and Megan are not together, I don't think I can do a casual hookup thing with her.
I already feel too much around her, and we haven't done anything more than make out once. We haven't even spent that much time together.
The problem is I can't stop thinking about her. I can't stop dreaming about her.
I sigh again as my thumbs hover over the phone. I text TT an eyeroll emoji, and she responds with a middle finger. That makes me smile.
I'm still clutching the phone because I want to send another text. To Bey, of course.
I want to reach out to her. It's not realistic, I've been telling myself, to ignore her. We live in the same house.
And maybe it's not fair, either. Maybe I'm completely wrong about her and Megan. Maybe she's not a player.
Kelly is a player. And Bey is nothing like Kelly.
So maybe I need to at least talk to Bey. That would be the adult way to handle things.
My thumb opens a new text, and I select Bey's number from my Contacts. She gave it to me the day I moved in, but I've never texted her before.
I don't know where she is, but I know she's not at home.
A gust of wind ruffles the pages of my journal. I see a flash of lightning in the western sky.
Hey, I type.
Almost immediately, the three dots that signal a response pop up on my phone.
Hey roomie. What's up?
My thumbs hover again as I debate what to say next.
Just sittin in my favorite spot, I type.
I'm pretty sure Bey knows I'm talking about the roof. She's seen me up here before.
I insert a thundercloud emoji. Looks like it's going to storm.
I'm texting about the weather. Lame.
I blow out a breath and start typing again: So do you have some time tonight to talk?
The three dots seem to scroll forever.
"Jesus, Bey," I mutter, feeling like a fool, "just say no already."
Finally, her response appears: I'm just leaving the gym, will be back in five minutes. Is it OK if I use the door this time to get to you instead of the tree?
She adds an LOL emoji, and I shake my head at my silly sense of relief.
Sure, I type, adding some random smiley face.
I clutch my journal to my chest for a second, then inch over to the open window and toss it on my bed.
I'll have to finish writing in it later.
A few minutes go by. Then Bey pulls his Mercedes Coupe into the bricked front yard.
The car is several years old, but it was still surprising the first time I saw her driving it. She'd said she doesn't get any money from his wealthy family. But that's an expensive car. I haven't asked her about it.
Bey gets out of the Coupe and leans against it. Her face is in shadow, but I see the flash of her teeth as she smiles up at me.
"You do realize," she drawls, raising his voice, "that sitting under a tree in a thunderstorm is pretty crazy."
I glance at the nearby oak and shrug. "I guess I like living dangerously," I quip, realizing too late that I sound more flirtatious than I meant to.
Bey laughs softly, then pushes herself away from the car and heads for the front door.
"I'll be up in a sec," she calls.
I feel my heart speed up.
When I hear her at my door, I pivot to watch her come in. She's got a red cup in one hand, and another sloshing cup of what I assume is beer clutched in her teeth.
Bey pulls the cup from her mouth with her free hand and grins at me as she kicks the door closed and strides to the window.
"No sense wasting that keg," she says cheerfully, stretching the cup through the window. "It's a day old, but what the hell."
"Thanks." I take the cup with a hesitant smile. Drinking beer is probably not the wisest thing I could do right now. But, as Bey said, what the hell.
I take a sip as she climbs on to the roof. She's dressed for the gym in a tight white shirt that highlights her well-developed arms.
I scoot a little further from the window to make room for her.
She settles next to me and takes a long drink.
"Hey there," she says as lightning again illuminates the horizon, followed several seconds later by the rumble of thunder.
Then she starts singing.
"Come listen to the story of Nicki and Bey. Struck by lightning, left behind just a shoe. Old folks said they was crazy in the head. And all it got 'em was good and dead."
I burst out laughing. I love Bey's sense of humor. And her singing.
"I was going to go in before it got too close," I assure her.
She gives me a look. "Yeah. Famous last words of every single person who's ever been struck by lightning."
She shrugs, then continues, "But, hey, if you're up for it, so am I. It's beautiful out here. We'll ride the crazy train together."
She toasts me with a deepening smile, and my breathe snags as I watch that smile melt into her unbelievable eyes.
Jesus. So far, this is not going as planned.
I swallow hard and look away. I need to steer the conversation around to Megan. But all I want to do is be playful and seductive. Or be seduced.
When I turn back to her, Bey is pulling at the sleeve of her T-shirt. She seems to be trying to subtly sniff it.
"I was going to shower at the gym," she admits when she realizes I've noticed. "But when you called, I forgot all about that."
She runs a hand through her blonde hair. "I guess I should've hit the shower here before I came in," she adds, sheepishly. "Sorry if I'm smelly."
I sit there staring at her for a moment.
"You smell just fine to me." Again, I sound like I'm flirting with her. It gives me a rush to think of her hurrying back here to join me.
But then I wonder if this is all just part of her seduction routine: pretending to be all eager and boyish and desperate to be with me. Did she do something similar with Megan?
"What's the deal with you and Megan?" I ask abruptly. " Are you, you know, dating?"
Pretty sure no one else my age says dating anymore, but whatever. I'm old-fashioned.
"'Cause she's acting like you're a lot more than roomies," I add.
Bey looks nonplussed, like he didn't expect the conversation to take this turn. And that irritates me.
"Oh come on," I say, spreading my hands in frustration. "This can't be that much of a surprise. I mean...we've been..."
My words falter at the pained expression on her face.
"When she saw us making out the other day," I make myself go on, "she was pissed. Like girlfriend pissed.
I take another sip of beer, gathering my courage.
"I know nothing has really happened between us," I say. "We just made out a little. I know sex at college is supposed to be, like, super casual and stuff. But if you and Megan are a couple or just hooking up, I want to know."
Exactly why do I need to know? I push that thought away.
Bey's throat bobs up and down as she swallows hard a couple of times. She looks away from me, her jaw tense.
She's squeezing the red cup so the liquid is brimming almost over the top.
"Nicki," she says after a moment, "I'm not with Megan."
She shakes her head and looks up into the threatening sky. "We did have a...I can't even call it a thing. We just hooked up. For a few weeks, after she moved in."
She turns his gaze back to me. "It was just sex," she goes on. "I thought Megan understood that. I thought that's all it was for her, too. I wasn't trying to hurt her. Nothing's happened between us for months. But she won't let it go."
She places her hand over mine, squeezing gently. One part of me wants to weave my fingers into her. But another part wants to pull away from him.
I stretch toward the window and carefully place my cup on the sill.
"Bey..." I start.
"It's different with you, Nicki," she cuts me off. "What there is between us. It's different."
Another flash of lighting makes her eyes glow.
"It's been like that since the day we met," she says. "I know you feel it, too. I know it's crazy fast. But it's real."
A loud thunderclap follows almost immediately. A couple of drops of rain hit my face.
Bey lets out a derisive laugh. "God, that sounds like such a line, doesn't it?"
She drains the rest of her beer and twists around to place her cup on the windowsill next to mine.
"But it's true, Nicki," she adds. "For me, anyway. It's fucking true."
I roll my eyes, more as a protective mechanism than anything else. It did sound like a cheesy line. Bey is right though. I do feel the connection we have.
But I don't want to acknowledge that. Not yet anyway.
"So I'm not just another in a long line of girls?" I ask, skeptically, gesturing between us. "This isn't some roomies-with-benefits thing?"
I cringe inwardly at the wounded look on her face, but I hold up my hand as she starts to protest.
"Just be straight with me, Bey. I mean, we haven't even..."
I'm blushing, which is pathetic. "We haven't had sex," I push on. "We just fooled around a little. No harm done."
I see her chest rise and fall as she takes a deep breath and curls her fingers around mine.
"I'm not judging you," I continue. "That's what college is, right? It's just...casual. It's what everybody does, right? But it's not me."
I'm struggling with what to say next. I probably sound like a prude. And what I told her is not exactly true. Casual sex might be fine for me, with somebody else.
But not with Bey. I already know that.
So I decide to just come out and say tell her how I feel. See how she responds.
"I think I've got a major crush on you." I say the words fast before I can change my mind.
"I know it's only been two weeks," I go on. "Like you said, it's crazy fast. I know that. And it's okay if you don't feel the same. But I don't want to get hurt. So I need you to be straight with me. If there's someone else. If you only want something casual. You've got to tell me."
Bey's smile has faded. She's holding my gaze with an intense look that's hard to read. She lifts a finger and trails it down my face, then lets it linger on my lips.
"Nicki," she whispers, then kisses me gently. "Holy shit, Nicki. There's no one else. I've haven't even gone out with anybody seriously since..."
She doesn't finish the sentence.
And I don't even have time to wonder why before she grabs my face and starts devouring my lips with hers, thrusting her tongue into my mouth and running it all over the insides of my cheeks. She kisses my lips again, then my chin, nose, and forehead.
Her body is pressed into mine, pinning me to the roof. I don't want to think about anything else.
My hands find their way down her shoulders, over her arms, and back to her face.
It's crazy-train kissing: up on the roof, out in a storm.
I want it to go on forever.
I open my eyes in time to see lightning blazing above me, and Bey's eyes lit up with lust. She trails kisses down my neck and chest as thunder answers the lightning.
Her hand cups my breast, and her mouth swiftly follows, her tongue tracing a pattern along the top of the cami I'm wearing.
I'm panting and arching my back, pulling Bey closer and closer. My whole body is on fire.
I open my eyes again just as Bey lifts her mouth to mine. Her kisses are rougher now, more insistent.
After a few moments, she pulls back, holding her body just above mine, her arm muscles flexing as I trail my fingertips over them.
My lips are burning. I moisten them with my tongue, then lift my face toward Bey. I want her to kiss me some more. A lot more.
But she breaks into a soft smile, her breathing still heavy. "You okay? You're good, with this, Nicki? We don't have to go any further."
I nod and pull him toward me. I don't want to talk. I want him to press her body hard against me, plunge into me, consume me.
But then a bolt of lightning, followed by an ear-splitting crack of thunder, explodes right above us.
I scream, and we scramble to sit up. Bey reaches for me just as the sky opens and it begins to pour.
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